Random Thoughts of Ordinary People
by ShadowOnACloudyDay
Summary: Just that. The characters look inside themselves.
1. The Dad

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, if I did Bones and Booth would be together.

This is my first fic ever. Please R&R, 'cause I'm insecure. Don't be afraid to tell me it sucks. (Sorry I know this has all been done before, but I couldn't resist.)

Booth

I would die for my son.

I love him that much.

I risk my life every day in service of my country. But I would do more than _risk _my life for Parker .It was in the line of duty that I came to realize something else. There are two people I would die for-my son and my partner. Bones and I have been shot at and attacked. I know she's safe, because most of the time she can defend herself. Hell, more than defend herself. She could beat the crap out of someone._ Most of the time._ That harsh reality was brought to my attention recently.

_Bones almost died._

_Because of me._

I was terrified I would lose her. Because somehow my beautiful, maddening partner has come to mean so much to me. I don't even know how it happened. She became more than a squint, more than a person I had to take along. She _means_ something. I like the other squints, don't get me wrong. But like I said, she's more than a squint.

She's Bones.

_My Bones_.

Sometimes I just want to talk about her. I want to tell everybody how wonderful _my Bones_ is. How smart, how strong, how beautiful, and kind, and elegant, and just _amazing._ Everybody can see how I feel. The squints, (Angela in particular) suspects, random people on the street.

Only Bones doesn't see it.

It took awhile before I did.

_I love her._


	2. The Writer

So, here's part two. I'll probably write more, but I think I've come to a stopping point. I wish I could write something w/ plot. Oh well. Anywhoo, the characters aren't mine, but some of the thoughts I attribute to them are. Please be nice and review, even if it's to tell me you don't like it. Thoughts and suggestions are welcome. 

Enjoy!

Bones 

He calls me Bones. It's so demeaning, so annoying. So wrong.

I hope he never stops.

At first I objected. I still occasionally make token protestations. I really don't mind, however

When I first met Booth I had two thoughts. The professional said, "He has no appreciation for scientists and what we do."

The woman (who oddly enough has Angela's voice) said, "Wow. He is HOT!"

The first thought has changed. Booth has come to respect us, just as I have come to respect his work. The second thought still holds true. But his appearance doesn't matter to me. It's the man beneath that intrigues me. Angela thinks we should go out, we are in love, etc. According to one of his _lawyers,_ I should jump him while I have the chance.

It wouldn't work out.

I shouldn't even be thinking about it.

So we continue our dance, our more-than-partners-less-than-lovers-dance. Until one of us missteps, until one of us reaches out. And I'll keep watching my door, hoping to see his face. The cases I work with him are interesting, after all.

What does it matter if I enjoy his company as well?


	3. The Poet

This is another addition to a series of oneshots. It is a work in progress that I consider finished at any time. Since I tend to do the chapters in pairs, I intend to write Angela's next (maybe) Please R&R, and my life will be worthwhile.

He had money, and lots of it. With that money, he could buy almost anything. An intoxicating scent. A beautiful rose. But it could not buy him the most breathtakingly perfect thing he had ever seen.

_Angela Montenegro_

His interest in the woman had developed into full-bloomed love. Love that had been tested, tried, denied, and confessed to her best friend. That confession had been a dangerous thing. Now he had voiced what was previously been but a wish in his heart. Now he could not laugh it off as attraction, or something lesser.

Yet perhaps he had passed that point long before. He had given her the rose, just as he had intended to give her the perfume.

He bought her things because it was the only way to tell her he loved her more than she might ever know.

He gave her his money because she would not let him give her himself.

It was one of his delights, though, trying to find something to give his very own angel that could begin to approach her own beauty.

Something that said _I **Love** You_.


End file.
